


A Goblin King's Fascination

by WritingMage



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingMage/pseuds/WritingMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How ordinary was his little Sarah Williams, so very ordinary. It was a wonder why she fascinated him at all. Perusing intently, the Goblin King peered keenly into his glass ball in his talon-ended hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or the characters, though I do own the plot of this particular story and interpretation of a certain Goblin King.

 

She was an impetuous child blossoming with the promise of future beauty. The promise lay in the lilt of her mouth and in the bright of her eyes. The Goblin King had seen many such children. And yet, this child fascinated him as no other had before her.

 

Perusing intently, the Goblin King peered keenly into his glass ball in his talon-ended hands.

 

Within it, the girl-child gloried in her victory over the villainous Goblin King of the Labyrinth. How brazenly arrogant she was. How disgustingly naïve.

 

As though a mere mortal child could unravel the mysteries of his Labyrinth.

 

But perhaps it was her delicious naïveté that so enraptured him. Fae were so cold, so calculating, and his little Sarah, by contrast, she burst with heady human vitality. Her volatile temper was rich with unkempt emotion. More likely, Sarah was only fascinating because of the monotony of the unceasing days of petty goblin magic and of predictable goblin antics. It had been so many millennia since the Goblin King could venture to the Aboveground, and runners were so few and far in between…

 

Perhaps his little Sarah would be a suitable distraction, if only for a while.

 

Of course, he would have to let the little girl-child become complacent with the belief that she was safe from him. Let the girl believe the story. His game would not be entertaining otherwise.

 

_You have no power over me._

 

Who had ever believed such a ridiculous idea? Him, the Goblin King, to have no power over an insignificant child? Ludicrous. He was the king of the mortal realm, ruler of both mortals’ desires and men’s worst nightmares. He was the Goblin King, ensnarer of the common mortal, ruler of the sun and the wind and rain and the snow.

 

To have no power over her indeed.

 

On whim, the Goblin King gazed once again into his glass ball, and the scene had changed. The festivities were over. His little Sarah lay asleep in her bed, face so delectably calm. He would relish in her sudden quaking fear, her growing awareness of him as time went onwards.

 

Her face was smooth and bathed in the light of the lamp on her bedside, and within the realms of her dreams, the Goblin King studied her twirling figure on a stage flooded with lurid applause.

 

Oh, to have the simple dreams of children, the Goblin King thought, caressing the curve of the glass that went along his Sarah’s cheek.

 

His eyes darkened, and his countenance shone, alight with the fiery burning of dark magic.

 

In his little Sarah’s room, the light went out suddenly, and her window exploded into millions of fractals of glass. The wind moaned, and the moon was ghastly pale. The shadows of her room twisted and snarled together, and the shadows grew eyes that glowed red in the dark. The shadow’s ghosted over his little Sarah’ s skin, and inside her dream, applause turned to malicious critique and to shunning.

 

Bolder, his shadows pulled at the strands of his Sarah’s dark ebony hair, and they whispered vicious things within the silence of the night.

 

_Little Sarah_ , whispered the shadows, _little Sarah, no dream of yours shall ever be true._

 

His Sarah’s heart quivered. Its melody mounted into a staccato crescendo. Her eyes jolted open. Her hand clutched against her chest.

 

“Sarah,” the Goblin King murmured against the glass, and his voice boomed within her mind. Her heart’s pounding seared the Goblin King’s croon into her crawling skin. “Sarah mine, remember your Goblin King now. Remember, for I shall never allow you to forget.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Posting Date: June 28, 2016
> 
> Prompt: N/A
> 
> Word Count: 603
> 
> Note: This is just a short little one-shot, because I was in the mood to write something darker than the usual and in the mood to try to write a Labyrinth fan-fiction. The idea seemed intriguing enough, and Jareth is so cunning and cold, a very interesting character and point of view to write. However, let it be known: I have never actually seen the Labyrinth.


	2. Fascination Grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How ordinary was his little Sarah Williams, so very ordinary. It was a wonder why she fascinated him at all. Perusing intently, the Goblin King peered keenly into his glass ball in his talon-ended hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or the characters, though I do own the plot of this particular story and interpretation of a certain Goblin King.

 

It became a game almost. A wonderful game of cat and mouse. His little Sarah would always peer warily into the shadows and into the woods before scurrying to wherever she was meant to be. But, of course, in the daylight, his little Sarah had nothing to fear, for goblin kings did not use the day. At least not very often.

 

Yet how frightened she would become even as the sunlight caressed her skin. However, this was not unexpected. She did not know the rules of their game, as was fair. For he was the Goblin King and above her in every way.

 

Though still his most favorite entertainment, his Sarah was a mere mortal, and as was right, she saw him in everything, in every creak of the trees, in every darkness, in every phantom sensation against her cheeks. Every moment of her life, she quivered in fear.

 

Her heart would beat deliciously fast.

 

That was perhaps the most intriguing part about his Sarah, her decadent surplus of reaction, of emotion. She would tense at the sight of his precious owls or would freeze at the sound of his whispers.

 

The Goblin King did relish in whispering things to her.

 

_Sarah mine, imagine how well little Toby would have worn Goblin-skin._

 

_Don’t get to close to that young man, pet. We wouldn’t want him to vanish in the dead of night._

 

 _Now, now, Sarah dear, do you wish for me to punish foolish mortals for_ your _transgression against the Goblin King._

 

His Sarah would jolt at the booming of his voice inside her mind. She would stiffen. She would concede. It was a simple but effective method of control, and the Goblin King relished in it dearly.

 

How satisfying it was to make his little mortal eat back her arrogant words.

 

_You have no power over me._

 

But with every day, his power over her grew stronger yet. His power grew and multiplied and became infinite, growing in tandem with her fear of him.

 

For fear is power.

 

Until one day, his little Sarah grew convinced of mortal lies.

 

Her step-mother had insisted that she grow up. Something of becoming a young, proper lady. As though, _his_ Sarah could be a proper lady. Yet, the idea enticed the Goblin King. To let his little mortal child become more than a mere, simple child.

 

Who would his little Sarah be then? What an intriguing possibility.

 

Even as he had peered into his glass ball, the idea danced in his head and lured him with siren song.

 

How much greater would his victory be if she believed herself to be invincible once again. How much more sweet would it be to break his little Sarah of those illusions. How much greater…

 

It would be no problem to allow his Sarah some time to believe once again in her invincibility, of her pretty illusions of independence and sovereignty apart from her Goblin King. He did, after all, have all the time in the world. To wait a few years would be a mere blink in time. And time was a luxury of which the Goblin King had an eternity.

 

It was a worthy investment.

 

Accordingly, he had allowed himself to recede in her memory and became nothing more than a childhood nightmare. And however worthy it was to leave his Sarah alone to come into herself, the Goblin King could not resist the aching to exert his power over her once again.

 

So he would, on occasion, haunt her dreams as he had done that first night.

 

Her lovely dreams, a gently movement of his talons, and they fell into desperate chaos. They morphed into shadows and blood and the delicious scent of fear. And how gracious his little Sarah was, for all her dreams were always so very different, changing from starlight and applause to a sniveling boy whom she had infatuated herself.

 

As though a mere mortal were deserving of any attention from the Goblin King’s pet.

 

Nevertheless, the variety of her dreams was conducive to the Goblin King’s own creativity. There were so many ways to wake his Sarah, so many ways to reduce her body to feverish writhing, so many ways to make his Sarah scream and clutch her precious throat.

 

Of all the moments that the Goblin King shared with his Sarah, he savored these the most. How close he would feel to her when she woke gasping from one of his nightmares. How close they were then, even separated by glass and the infinity between their realms. It made the weight of the time vanish, and patiently, the Goblin King would bide his time until he once again conquered his supposed “Champion of the Labyrinth”.

 

One day, his Sarah did finally become the proper, young lady her stepmother had wished her to be. No, the Goblin King had not realized this on his own. He had not realized this when his Sarah had finally graduated from the university, or when his Sarah first had gainful employment. The realization of his wait’s end did not come at any of these moments in time. It came when the Goblin king saw his Sarah’s final dream.

 

At last came the dastardliest of all her dreams, so vivid in detail, so lovely in all its softness. What a sweetling his Sarah was.

 

_The dream began in the bright of morning. There was the soft twittering of women and men amongst a crowd, and suddenly, from between the oak doors, came a man. He walked towards his Sarah, and like everyone else inside the dream, his face was blurred. But he was tall and almost-fortunate-looking._

 

_Soft vows were spoken. Words of commitment and love and loyalty, and on his pet’s face there was the most radiant smile. Her hair was done-up wonderfully, and she had never looked so beautiful than standing there amidst pools of white fabric._

 

_Then the dream morphed all on its own, and the Goblin King understood that time had passed._

 

_He came to see a yellow room, and there was a wooden rocking chair. But his Sarah was not there, instead she stood there, stomach swollen with child as she gently cradled another infant, cooing whispers of love and bits of rhyme._

 

_And once again, the Goblin King felt the dream begin to morph, but he froze time. Slowly, he approached the statue-like Sarah. Was this her dream? Her wish? A family? Children?_

 

_Children did not dream for children._

 

_Then the realization came: His Sarah was no longer a child._

 

_As has become custom, the Goblin King flicked his fingers, and the dream was slowly ripped from its very foundations._

 

_But the Goblin King does not savor the destruction of this dream. Instead, he pondered._

 

Blinking awake from his Sarah’s dream, the Goblin King once again observed his Sarah as she writhed in the fever of fear, and peering closely, the Goblin King felt a new fascination being born unto him. Yes, undoubtedly, he would yet have his Sarah fear him, play with her as he had always planned, but perhaps, they were more uses to his Sarah than the Goblin King had envisioned.

 

Talons scratching lightly against the glass of his crystal, the Goblin King called forth the wind and the rain and the shadows. He called forth the sun and the snow and the fog. As she woke in her typical gasping way, his Sarah was encapsulated in chaos. Her room was loud with the thunderous screeching of the wind and the rain pelted against everything like knives, cutting through her wooden dresser and shattering the mirror on her vanity. The shadows danced merrily through the room, singing with the voices of all the children that the Goblin king had once stolen.

 

“Sleep now,” they said in tandem, and they babies’ voices rung softly in the sweeping chaos, “Sleep now, little Sarah. Shall we sing for you?” Their laughter rang, and they began.

 

 

“THERE was a lady all skin and bone,

Sure such a lady was never known :

It happen'd upon a certain day,

This lady went to church to pray.”

 

 

All the while, the chaos of the room, his Sarah’s budding horror continued wonderfully. Small patches of glaring sunlight burn bright in the room. Snow swirls over Sarah’s bed. It covered her in a beautiful blanket of sparkling white, and at its touch, his Sarah’s skin turned a becoming shade of blue, like Forget-Me-Nots.

 

 

“When she came to the church stile,

There she did rest a little while;

When she came to the churchyard,

There the bells so loud she heard.”

 

 

Thick fog crawled into the room. And its kiss upon his pet’s skin Sarah shivered. The fog was so very cold, and yet, the children still sung brightly.

 

 

“When she came to the church door,

She stopt to rest a little more ;

When she came the church within,

The parson pray'd 'gainst pride and sin.

 

On looking up, on looking down,

She saw a dead man on the ground ;

And from his nose unto his chin,

The worms crawl'd out, the worms crawl'd in.”

 

 

The Goblin king walked through the chaos and after years of separation stood at a foot away from his little mortal. She froze, and Sarah’s fear became _more_. It became sheer terror.

 

“No,” she whispered under the cacophony of rain and wind and lost children. “No,” she shook her head in denial. “You were just a dream.”

 

“A dream?” The Goblin King smiled, and his teeth sparkled with all the fearsome danger of a predator. “I never knew you thought so highly of me, Sarah mine.” A talon traced the soft curve of her cheek, and he leaned closer until his breathe warmed the nape of her neck. “I would have thought that you thought I was a nightmare.”

 

Her skin erupted into pinpricks of skin, tiny goosebumps that his sharp eyes trace in languid swirls.

 

 

“Then she unto the parson said,

Shall I be so when I am dead :

O yes ! O yes, the parson said,

You will be so when you are dead.”

 

 

And this was the crescendo of the cacophony. It scratches painfully together, and here, the Goblin King holds his Sarah’s face at the chin. “Sarah mine, you are _mine_.”

 

 

“Here the lady screams.”

 

 

How well his Sarah screamed. So loudly. So afraid. It is the music to the Goblin King’s ears. It is all that he hears, but in the dark emptiness of her bedroom, all that his Sarah hears is the booming of his voice, “I will come for you, Sarah mine. Soon, very soon, Pet.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Posting Date: July 7, 2016
> 
> Word Count: 1778
> 
> Note: I got a bit stuck with a few other endeavors of mine, and I got an idea for this. Just something small. Yay! More Dark Jareth! This was fun. I'd love to hear what you all think about anything in this story/chapter. Comments are the food of the writer, you know. Anyways, the rhyme that the shadows sing is from Gammer Gurton’s Garland, 1784.


	3. Consuming Fascination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or the characters, though I do own the plot of this particular story and interpretation of a certain Goblin King.

 

His Sarah was fascinating as a grown woman, worlds away from the child of her youth. Not only did she grow into the promise of beauty, but she also grew taller and womanly, mature, like a blossoming rose or a blooming sunrise. Her beauty was more rapturous than what the Goblin King had first imagined when he’d seen the impetuous girl-child all those years before.

 

However, at the end, his beautiful Sarah was still mortal, and thus, his Sarah’s beauty was the imperfect beauty of mortals. Nevertheless, the Goblin King could still fixate upon her for hours on end. Her face was brushed with sun, and her cheeks were kissed with light rose. Her eyes were still bright, and a newfound intelligence shone within them. But for all her human beauty and all his fascination with her, the Goblin King still recognized miniscule imperfections: The lack of symmetry in her brows, the slight wrinkle around her lips, the dark sleeplessness hanging beneath her eyes… Perhaps it was these imperfections that multiplied her beauty. Like a wildflower, his Sarah was beautiful, full of color and life that snuffed out quickly like candle-flame.

 

It was her mortality that made her beauty all the more precious, the Goblin King realized. It’s fleeting nature disallowed anything else.

 

The Goblin King pressed closer to the glass ball. Inside, he saw his Sarah walking purposefully into the sparkling glass building. Today she wore a professional sort of attire, a set of slacks and a pinstripe shirt covered by her favorite black suit-jacket.

 

Within the confines of the glass ball, the Goblin King saw his Sarah smile brightly to a tall man, her current beau. Frowning, the Goblin King observed. Why did this man of all men interest his pet? There was nothing special to him. He was plebian. Absolutely plebian, unworthy of any notice, much less from his Sarah.

 

As much as the Goblin King knew that this mortal was of no consequence, it did not stop neither the fiery vengeance that scorched his veins nor the lengthening of his sharp talons whenever his Sarah smiled prettily to the man. Of course, it was completely illogical, but it was the truth all the same. However, soon very soon, the Goblin King would have his fun, his entertainment, this he knew with certainty. Caressing his Sarah’s cheek through the glass, the Goblin King stared at the mortal man beside her.

 

In an instant, the man stumbled to the ground. “I can’t see! I can’t see!”

 

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Jonathon? Help! Help! Jonathon- Jonathon- open your eyes- let me see! Jonathon-”

 

How tragic, the Goblin King sneered. There on the sidewalk just outside the building, the man lay crumpled, weak. Kneeling beside him, caressing his brown hair, his Sarah murmured worriedly and whispered sweetly into the man’s ear. “You’ll be alright. I promise. Everything is going to be fine.”

 

Just so, his Sarah remained, soft caresses, doubly gentle words, even as the ambulance screeched and raced to the hospital.

 

It was many hours before the mortal healers, doctors as they called them now, gave a diagnosis. Optic neuritis, the doctors had said at last. When the doctors left and the beau slept, his Sarah red-eyed and stiff looked out to the city outside the window. She did this for many hours. Many hours. Many, many hours.

 

Frowning, the Goblin King spoke to her. “Sarah mine, why do you cry?”

 

Harshly wiping at her eyes, his Sarah pinched her lips in a tight line.

 

“Sarah”, the Goblin King called softly, “Sarah dear, Sarah mine…” His voice was a soft lullaby that echoed within her. “Little Sarah, why do you cry?”

 

Continuously, the Goblin King murmured and called, sometimes harsher and sometimes gentle-voiced, but his Sarah did not speak. And she always spoke to him when he whispered. Always. Even with his booming whispers, she remained impervious. “You have no power over me, Goblin King”, she would hiss. But now, his Sarah merely cried in deep silence, and her tears merely fell like rain, soft beats against the linoleum floor.

 

Unlike other visits, this one was quiet. There was no flurry of snow, nor of ice. No rain sliced against the walls, neither did the chilling fog. In the silence, there were neither whispering shadows, nor was there howling wind. Instead, the Goblin King merely stepped into the room through the shadows.  

 

“You did this, didn’t you?” His Sarah still stared down to the petty mortal.

 

“And if I did?”

 

“Then I hate you, more than I ever thought I could hate anybody”, his Sarah said boldly, chin jutted and eyes flashing with roiling anger.

 

For a moment, the Goblin King felt a vague sense of clenching loss at the pit of his stomach, then the feeling was gone. In its place, a detached fury consumed his senses. How dare his Sarah hate him? How dare she? She was his by right, by virtue of her humanity and her arrogance in believing herself to Champion of the Labyrinth. If anyone had any right to hate, it was him. His Sarah, his fascinating Sarah, _his_ mortal was always out and about giving herself to any man or any mortal passerby.

 

She gave them his smiles and his laughs. She gave any man what was his by right. Perhaps she was flighty as were many women and many fae wenches, but the Goblin King had been generous to her. He had allowed his Sarah her youth to do as she pleased, to be as free with herself as she’d liked. And now, now that he had finally come to claim her once again, she dared to hate him.

 

Snatching her chin, the Goblin King jerked her face up. “Hate me, do you?” His talons bit into her neck and face. The soft flesh gave easily and painted the Goblin King’s hands red. “Wench, you are mine. You have no right or claim to neither hate nor anger. For how fair I have been to you, you should beg and kneel as you proclaim your gratefulness to this Goblin King.”

 

“I’d rather die”, she spat.

 

Cocking his head to the side, the Goblin King studied her, relishing the warmth of her blood and the softness of her skin. This was the first time that he had touched his Sarah in many years. The memory of her soft flesh against his talon-ended fingers paled to the reality.

 

“If you truly wished, you can die, Sarah mine,” the Goblin King murmured. His Sarah’s eyes widened, and her heart’s crescendo rose, like the sweetest music. “In fact, you should be dead now, little mortal of mine. No mortal escapes the Labyrinth, not alive anyway. When a mortal steps foot inside, their lives are forfeit. Mortals aren’t meant to be touched by magic.”

 

“But-”

 

“Hush”, the Goblin King whispered. “Those touched by magic die or if their bodies area resilient enough, they succumb to insanity. But you, I saved…”

 

Alight with dark magic, his eyes glowed in the darkness. A beatific smile, sharp with danger came to his lips. Deeper, his talons dug within his Sarah’s flesh, finding bone. The midnight darkness shimmered with the tingling sensation of dark magic. Upon his Sarah’s skin, pinpricks of skin and hair rose in goosebumps. For a moment, the entire room grew warmer and warmer, until his Sarah gasped as the heat scorched her delicate skin. In an instant, it all froze over.

 

Then, the world shattered.

 

Glass and crystal and ice swirled around them. His Sarah’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. Howling, the wind viciously tore into her, tugging her hair and biting her skin. Then the world was dark once more, and the hospital room was untouched but empty of both Sarah and the Goblin King.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Posting Date: July 27, 2016
> 
> Word Count: 1299
> 
> Note: Maybe not the best in the world, but whatever. I might edit it if I have the time or someone convinces me... Anyways, I still find Dark Jareth pretty interesting to write. :) Thanks for the reviews! Those always help to keep writing. Eh, maybe I should say this now, before someone asks: This chapter was divided into two, because I have a thing for cliff-hangers. *shrugs* I can be cruel. :) I'll post it ASAP!


End file.
